


Baby, Don't Hurt Me (No More)

by Blaiser



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Sadism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-14 06:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaiser/pseuds/Blaiser
Summary: Klaue is taken to Wakanda for trial.





	1. Caught

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for rare pairings and just wanted to write something with Klaue in it.
> 
> If rape/non-con or torture upsets you, you really should stop reading now. I'm probably headed in that direction, although I don't know for sure yet. 
> 
> Also, I am not a native English speaker nor do I have a beta so please forgive occasional misspellings, gramma fuckups and whatnot (especially those damned commas). You are of course welcome to point out any errors you stumble upon as I do like to learn from my mistakes. Additional tags will be added as the story progresses.

The South Korean night air is thick and humid with a scent of pre-rain. Above, a myriad of stars are sprinkled across the backdrop of a black velvet sky with an occasional meteor piercing the Earth’s atmosphere, leaving behind a thin trail of bright light.

On a dark, desolate runway a few miles outside Busan, three figures stand together, two women and a man, while a fourth figure, another man with his remaining arm secured behind his back via a waist-chain, kneels on the gravelly tarmac before them.

One of the females, a bald-headed, ebony-skinned warrior with her lips twisted in disgust and a seemingly permanent expression of anger in her onyx eyes, holds a spear poised in readiness while the object of her alertness, the kneeling man who is also her prisoner, grins manically up at her.

With lightening speed and almost surgical precision she places the tip of her spear against his pale throat, silencing him instantly. The man swallows carefully, the sharp metal almost grazing his bobbing Adam’s apple, then sends her one last taunting smirk before lowering his gaze to the ground between them, tamed, at least for the time being.

A few minutes passes in silence, then a low rumble fills the air and a colossal, round-hulled aircraft appears in the sky above them. The kneeling man looks up, sees the slowly descending aircraft and a shudder runs through his bones.

He wonders if this will be his last glimpse of the stars.


	2. Enroute

He remembered boarding the aircraft destined for Wakanda and his unknown fate; a fate that he before his captors had made such a grand show of disregarding as if he could care less whether he lived or died.

Deep down though, he _was_ worried - scared almost, which was a rare feeling, but he managed to hide it beneath a frenzied grin and calculated provocations that to his great amusement not only tested the Africans’ patience but also helped him distance himself from the stressful thought of his life running out.

Whether or not the Wakandens enforced the death penalty he did not know for sure, and not that life in prison was much better than a bullet to the brain, it did still provide a slim chance of escape which was preferable to the nothingness death could offer.

He remembered also the reddressed woman he had overheard T’Challa calling ‘Okoye’ making complaints about his insolence and that she was tired of hearing him running his mouth, then the stinging sensation on his neck as she, after a silent nod from her king, produced a syringe filled with clear liquid and injected the whole needle full directly into his carotid artery whilst staring sternly into his eyes as if to say “ _Night, night, fucker_ ”.

After that there was nothing but darkness, cold and pitch-black.


End file.
